The mind must rest as well as work. To write too much ruins it; to leave off writing rusts it.
[tr. Attwell (1896), ¶ 336]

One ruins the mind with too much writing. One rusts it by not writing at all.
[tr. Auster (1983), 1805 entry]

To make a Book, is like making a Pendulum, a Man must have Experience, as well as Wit to succeed in it.
[Bullord ed. (1696)]

Tis as much a Trade to make a Book, as to make a Watch; there's something more than Wit requisite to make an Author.
[Curll ed. (1713)]

To make a Book, is no less a Trade than to make a Clock; something more than Wit is necessary to form an Author.
[Browne ed. (1752)]

To make a book is as much a trade as to make a clock; something more than intelligence is required to become an author.
[tr. Van Laun (1885)]

A man to whom a talent is wanting, makes himself amends by despising it: he removes that obstacle which was between merit and him, and thereby finds himself on a level with the man whose pen he dreads.
[tr. Ozell (1760 ed.), # 73]

When a man is destitute of any particular talent, he indemnifies himself, by expressing his contempt for it; he removes that obstacle which stood between merit and him, and by that means, raises himself to a level with those whom he before feared as rivals.
[tr. Floyd (1762)]

When a man lacks a particular talent, he indemnifies himself by despising it: he removes the impediment between him and merit; and in that way finds himself on a level with those of whose works he formerly stood in awe.
[tr. Davidson (1891)]

A man who lacks a certain talent compensates himself by despising it: he removes the obstacle placed between him and merit, and thereby finds himself on an equality with the person whose labors he dreads.
[tr. Betts (1897)]

A man who lacks a certain talent will compensate himself by despising it; he eliminates the obstacle which blocks his path to excellence, and, as a consequence, sees himself as the equal of the rival whose work he fears.
[tr. Mauldon (2008), # 156]

All cannot all things do.
[tr. Ogilby (1649)]

We cannot all do all things.
[tr. Davidson (1854), Wilkins (1873), Greenough (1895), Day Lewis (1963), @sentantiq (2018)]

Scarce may all do everything.
[tr. Calverley (c. 1871)]

We are not equal all
To every theme.
[tr. Palmer (1883)]

All things are not possible to all.
[tr. Bryce (1897)]

We cannot all do everything.
[tr. Fairclough (Loeb) (1916)]

We are not all sufficient for all things.
[tr. Mackail/Cardew (1908)]

No single singer touches all the chords.
[tr. Williams (1915)]

We cannot all succeed in every task.
[tr. Rieu (1949)]

For none of us all is skilful in all things.
[tr. Johnson (1960)]

We are not all capable of all things.
[tr. Kline (2001)]

'Tis the Glory or the Merit of some Men to write well; and of others not to write at all.
[Curll ed. (1713)]

It is the Glory and Merit of some Men to write well, and of others not to write at all.
[Browne ed. (1752)]

It is the glory and the merit of some men to write well, and of others not to write at all.
[tr. Van Laun (1885)]

The glory or merit of certain men lies in writing well: that of certain others, in not writing at all.
[tr. Stewart (1970)]

Friends oft to friends in other points submit;
Few yield the glory of the field in wit.
[tr. Hay (1755)]

A friend will oft bestow gold, goods, or ground:
But who his wit will yield, is rarely found.
[tr. Elphinston (1782); Book 2, ep. 103]

It is not uncommon for one friend to bestow on another good and land, but to make concessions of literary pre-eminence is a rare proof of friendship.
[tr. Amos (1858)]

Gold, and wealth, and estates, many a friend will bestow; one who consents to yield the palm in genius, is rare.
[tr. Bohn's Classical (1859)]

Gold and possessions and lands many a friend will bestow: he who is willing to yield in genius will be rare.
[tr. Ker (1919)]

Full many a friend will give you wealth and fields;
But rare is he who thus in genius yields.
[tr. Pott & Wright (1921)]

Gold, wealth, estates will many a man resign
To save a friend, but few the bay divine.
[tr. Francis & Tatum (1924), #400]

Many a friend will give gold and riches and land, but one prepared to yield in talent will be found but seldom.
[tr. Shackleton Bailey (1993)]

Some friends will give up goods or yield their gold.
But few will let their own worth go untold.
[tr. Wills (2007)]

A friend will often give gold, wealth, and ground:
one who will yield in talent's rarely found.
[tr. McLean (2014)]

No right
Hast thou to censure this my frame as weak
And womanish, for if I am endued
With wisdom, that exceeds the nervous arm.
[tr. Wodhall (1809)]

You were wrong to censure my weak and effeminate body;
for if I can think soundly, this is stronger than a sturdy arm.
[tr. Collard (2004)]

Ordinary people think merely how they shall spend their time; a man of any talent tries to use it.
[tr. Saunders (1890)]

Hector, still impossible ’tis to pass
Good counsel upon you. But say some God prefers thy deeds,
In counsels wouldst thou pass us too? In all things none exceeds.
To some God gives the pow’r of war, to some the sleight to dance,
To some the art of instruments, some doth for voice advance;
And that far-seeing God grants some the wisdom of the mind,
Which no man can keep to himself, that, though but few can find,
Doth profit many, that preserves the public weal and state,
And that, who hath, he best can prize.
[tr. Chapman (1611), l. 646ff]

Hector! Thou ne’er canst listen to advice;
But think’st thou, that if heaven in feats of arms
Give thee pre-eminence, thou must excel
Therefore in council also all mankind?
No. All-sufficiency is not for thee.
To one, superior force in arms is given,
Skill to another in the graceful dance,
Sweet song and powers of music to a third,
And to a fourth loud-thundering Jove imparts
Wisdom, which profits many, and which saves
Whole cities oft, though reverenced but by few.
[tr. Cowper (1791), l. 877ff]

Hector, thou art impossible to be persuaded by advice. Because indeed a god hath given thee, above others, warlike deeds, for this reason dost thou also desire to be more skilled than others in counsel? But by no means canst thou thyself obtain all things at once. To one indeed hath the deity given warlike deeds; to another dancing; and to another the harp and singing. To another again far-sounding Jove implants a prudent mind in his bosom, of which many men reap the advantage, as it even preserves cities; and he himself who possesses it especially knows its value.
[tr. Buckley (1860)]

Hector, I know thee, how unapt thou art
To hearken to advice; because the Gods
Have giv’n thee to excel in warlike might,
Thou deemest thyself, in counsel too, supreme;
Yet every gift thou canst not so combine:
To one the Gods have granted warlike might,
To one the dance, to one the lyre and song;
While in another’s breast all-seeing Jove
Hath plac’d the spirit of wisdom, and a mind
Discerning, for the common good of all:
By him are states preserv’d; and he himself
Best knows the value of the precious gift.
[tr. Derby (1864)]

Hector, thou art hard to be persuaded by them that would counsel thee; for that god has given thee excellence in the works of war, therefore in council also thou art fain to excel other men in knowledge. But in nowise wilt thou be able to take everything on thyself. For to one man has god given for his portion the works of war, to another the dance, to another the lute and song, but in the heart of yet another hath far-seeing Zeus placed an excellent understanding, whereof many men get gain, yea he saveth many an one, and himself best knoweth it.
[tr. Leaf/Lang/Myers (1891)]

Hector, there is no persuading you to take advice. Because heaven has so richly endowed you with the arts of war, you think that you must therefore excel others in counsel; but you cannot thus claim preeminence in all things. Heaven has made one man an excellent soldier; of another it has made a dancer or a singer and player on the lyre; while yet in another Jove has implanted a wise understanding of which men reap fruit to the saving of many, and he himself knows more about it than any one.
[tr. Butler (1898)]

Hector, hard to deal with art thou, that thou shouldest hearken to words of persuasion. Forasmuch as god has given to thee as to none other works of war, therefore in counsel too art thou minded to have wisdom beyond all; but in no wise shalt thou be able of thine own self to compass all things. To one man hath God given works of war, to another the dance, to another the lyre and song, and in the breast of another Zeus, whose voice is borne afar, putteth a mind of understanding, wherefrom many men get profit, and many he saveth; but he knoweth it best himself.
[tr. Murray (1924)]

You are a hard man to persuade.
Zeus gave you mastery in arms; therefore
you think to excel in strategy as well.
And yet you cannot have all gifts at once.
Heaven gives one man skill in arms, another
skill in dancing, and a third man skill
at gittern-harp and song; but the Lord Zeus
who views the wide world has instilled clear thought
in yet another. By his aid men flourish,
and there are many he can save; he knows
better than any what his gift is worth.
[tr. Fitzgerald (1974)]

Impossible man! Won't you listen to reason?
Just because some god exalts you in battle
you think you can beat the rest at tactics too.
How can you hope to garner all the gifts at once?
One man is a splendid fighter -- a god has made him so --
one's a dancer, another skilled at lyre and song,
and deep in the next man's chest farseeing Zeus
plants the gift of judgment, good clear sense.
And many reap the benefits of that treasure:
troops of men he saves, as he himself knows best.
[tr. Fagles (1990), l. 839ff]

You are a difficult man to convince with words of persuasion,
Hektor--because god gave you war-deeds beyond others,
therefore in counsel as well as beyond others you wish to have wisdom.
But no way by yourself can you possibly have all together.
For it is true that the god gives war-deeds mainly to one man,
and to another the dance, to another the song and lyre-playing,
while in another man's bosom the lord wide-thundering Zeus puts
excellent wisdom, from which many people derive the advantage --
numerous men he saves, but himself best knows of its value.
[tr. Merrill (2007)]

One may be a perfect gentleman, and write bad verses; those things have nothing to do with honour. I take him to be a gallant man in every way; a man of standing, of merit, and courage, anything you like, but he is a wretched author.
[tr. Van Laun (1878)]

One may be an excellent man, and yet write bad verses. Honour is not affected by such things. I esteem him a gallant man in all respects, a man of quality, merit, and courage; all you please, but he is a very bad author.
[tr. Mathew (1890)]

A man can be a gentleman and make bad verses. Such matters do not touch his honor, and I hold him to be a gallant man in every other way; a man of quality, of courage, deserving of anything you please, but -- a bad writer.
[tr. Wormeley (1894)]

One may be a perfect gentleman and yet write bad verses; these things have no concern with honolur. I believe him to be an honourable man in every way; a man of standing, of merit, of courage, anything you like, but he is a miserable author.
[tr. Waller (1903)]

A man may be
A perfect gentleman, and write poor verse.
These matters do not raise the point of honor.
I hold him a true man in all respects,
Brave, worthy, noble, anything you will,
But still, a wretched writer.
[tr. Page (1913)]

One can be virtuous and a wretched poet;
That's not a matter to affect one's honor.
I think him an accomplished gentleman,
A man of rank, merit, and character,
Whatever you like; but he's a dreadful author.
[tr. Bishop (1957)]

Even a gentleman can write bad verse.
These things concern our honor not a whit.
That he's a gentleman I do admit,
A man of quality, merit, and heart,
All that you like -- his authorship apart.
[tr. Frame (1967)]

Anyone may be an honorable man, and yet write verse badly.
[ed. Bartlett (1992)]

There is only one proof of ability: doing it.
[tr. Scrase/Mieder (1994)]

• "A talent doth in stillness form itself -- / A character on life's unquiet stream." [tr. Des Voeux (1827)]
• "Talents are nurtured best in solitude, -- / A character on life's tempestuous sea." [tr. Swanwick (1843)]
• "Man's talent ripens in tranquility, / His character in battling with the world." [tr. Cartwright (1861)]
• "A talent in tranquility is formed, / A character in the turbulence of affairs." [tr. Hamburger (20th C)]
• "Talent develops in quiet places, / Character in the full current of human life."
• Talents are best nurtured in solitude; / Character is best formed in the stormy billows of the world.
• "Genius is formed in quiet, / Character in the stream of human life."

He who writes with ease always thinks that he has more talent than he really has.
[tr. Calvert (1866), ch. 15]

When anyone writes with ease, he always believes himself to have more talent than he has.
[tr. Lyttelton (1899), ch. 22, ¶ 13]

The fluent author always seems to have more talent than he has.
[tr. Collins (1928), ch. 22]

The more deale of us Poets, both the olde, and younge most parte,
Are ofte begylde by shewe of good, affectinge to muche arte.
I laboure to be verye breife, it makes me verye harde.
I followe flowinge easynes, my style is clearely marde
For lacke of pith and saverye sence, Write loftie, thou shalte swell:
He creepes by the grounde to lowe, afrayde with stormie vayne to mell.
He that in varyinge one pointe muche would bringe forth monstruouse store,
Would make the dolphin dwell in wooddes and in the flud the bore.
The shunning of a faulte is such that now and then it will
Procure a greater faulte, if it be not eschewde by skill.
[tr. Drant (1567)]

The greater part, that boast the Muses fire
Father, and sons right worthy of your Sire,
Are with the likenesse of the truth beguil'd:
My selfe for shortnesse labour, and am stil'd
Obscure. Another striving smooth to runne,
Wants strength, and sinewes, as his spirits were done;
His Muse professing height, and greatnesse, swells;
Downe close by shore, this other creeping steales,
Being over-safe, and fearing of the flaw:
So he that varying still affects to draw
One thing prodigiously, paints in the woods
A Dolphin and a Boare amidst the floods:
The shunning vice, to greater vice doth lead,
If in th'escape an artlesse path we tread.
[tr. Jonson (1640), l. 33ff]

Most Poets fall into the grossest faults,
Deluded by a seeming Excellence:
By striving to be short, they grow Obscure,
And when they would write smoothly they want strength,
Their Spirits sink; while others that affect,
A lofty Stile, swell to a Tympany;
Some timerous wretches start at every blast,
And fearing Tempests, dare not leave the Shore.
Others in love with wild variety,
Draw Boars in Waves, and Dolphins in a Wood;
Thus fear of Erring, joyn'd with want of Skill,
Is a most certain way of Erring still.
[tr. Roscommon (1680)]

But oft, our greatest errors take their rise
From our best views. I strive to be concise;
I prove obscure. My strength, my fire decays,
When in pursuit of elegance and ease.
Aiming at greatness, some to fustian soar;
Some in cold safety creep along the shore,
Too much afraid of storms; while he, who tries
With ever-varying wonders to surprise,
In the broad forest bids his dolphins play,
And paints his boars disporting in the sea.
Thus, injudicious, while one fault we shun,
Into its opposite extreme we run.
[tr. Francis (1747)]

Lov'd sire! lov'd sons, well worthy such a sire!
Most bards are dupes to beauties they admire.
Proud to be brief, for brevity must please,
I grow obscure; the follower of ease
Wants nerve and soul; the lover of sublime
Swells to bombast; while he who dreads that crime,
Too fearful of the whirlwind rising round,
A wretched reptile, creeps along the ground.
The bard, ambitious fancies who displays,
And tortures one poor thought a thousand ways,
Heaps prodigies on prodigies; in woods
Pictures the dolphin, and the boar in floods!
Thus ev'n the fear of faults to faults betrays,
Unless a master-hand conduct the lays.
[tr. Coleman (1783)]

The great majority of us poets, father, and youths worthy such a father, are misled by the appearance of right. I labor to be concise, I become obscure: nerves and spirit fail him, that aims at the easy: one, that pretends to be sublime, proves bombastical: he who is too cautious and fearful of the storm, crawls along the ground: he who wants to vary his subject in a marvelous manner, paints the dolphin in the woods, the boar in the sea. The avoiding of an error leads to a fault, if it lack skill.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]

Ye worthy trio! we poor sons of song
Oft find 'tis fancied right that leads us wrong.
I prove obscure in trying to be terse;
Attempts at ease emasculate my verse;
Who aims at grandeur into bombast falls;
Who fears to stretch his pinions creeps and crawls;
Who hopes by strange variety to please
Puts dolphins among forests, boars in seas.
Thus zeal to 'scape from error, if unchecked
By sense of art, creates a new defect.
[tr. Conington (1874)]

We poets, most of us, by the pretence,
Dear friends, are duped of seeming excellence.
We grow obscure in striving to be terse;
Aiming at ease, we enervate our verse;
For grandeur soaring, into bombast fall,
And, dreading that, like merest reptiles crawl;
Whilst he, who seeks his readers to surprise
With common things shown in uncommon wise,
Will make his dolphins through the forests roam.
His wild boars ride upon the billows' foam.
So unskilled writers, in their haste to shun
One fault, are apt into a worse to run.
[tr. Martin (1881)]

The greater part of us poets, O ye Father and Sons worthy of your parent, deceive ourselves under our illusion of what is right. I strive to write briefly, and so write obscurely. Compositions of a smooth nature argue a writer's deficiency both in force and spirit. An attempt at great subjects swells into bombast. A too cautious writer, and dreader of opposition, confines himself to common things. One who desires to amplify a single theme in an extravagant way, puts a dophin innto a wood, and a wild boar into the sea. The avoidance of one error, if unguarded by art, leads to another.
[tr. Elgood (1893)]

Most of us poets are misled by insistence upon our idea of what is right. I try to be brief and I become obscure; aiming at smoothness, we lose in vigor and spirit; attempting the sublime, we become turgid. Timid of the storm, we crawl along the ground. Thus if one lacks art, the over careful avoidance of one fault leads to another.
[tr. Dana/Dana (1911)]

Most of us poets, O father and ye sons worthy of the father, deceive ourselves by the semblance of truth. Striving to be brief, I become obscure. Aiming at smoothness, I fail in force and fire. One promising grandeur, is bombastic; another, overcautious and fearful of the gale, creeps along the ground. The man who tries to vary a single subject in monstrous fashion, is like a painter adding a dolphin to the woods, a boar to the waves. Shunning a fault may lead to error, if there be lack of art.
[tr. Fairclough (Loeb) (1926)]

Most of us poets -- O father, and sons worthy of your father, -- are misled by our idea of what is correct. I try to be terse, and end by being obscure; another strives after smoothness, to the sacrifice of vigour and spirit; a third aims at grandeur, and drops into bombast; a fourth, through an excess of caution and fear of squalls, goes creeping along the ground. He who is bent on lending variety to a theme that is by nature uniform, so as to produce an unnatural effect, is like a man who paints a dolphin in a forest or a wild boar in the waves. If artistic feeling is not there, mere avoidance of a fault leads to some worse defect.
[tr. Blakeney; ed. Kramer, Jr. (1936)]

O father, and sons who deserve a father like yours,
We poets are too often tricked into trying to achieve
A particular kind of perfection: I studiously try
To be brief, and become obscure; I try to be smooth,
And my vigor and force disappear; another assures us
Of something big which turns out to be merely pompous.
Another one crawls on the ground because he's too safe,
Too much afraid of the storm. The poet who strives
To vary his single subject in wonderful ways
Paints dolphins in woods and foaming boars on the waves.
Avoiding mistakes, if awkwardly done, leads to an error.
[tr. Palmer Bovie (1959)]

Most poets, father and young men deserving such a father,
go wrong in trying to be right: I struggle for concision,
I wind up being obscure; others try for smoothness
and lose strength, or for sublimit, and get gas.
One poet, too cautious, fears storms and craws along,
the other craves bizarre variety in a single subject
and paints a dolphin in a forest, a boar among the waves.
Fear of criticism leads to faults if we lack art.
[tr. Fuchs (1977)]

Most poets, leaders and led,
Chase a will-o’-the-wisp of abstract Right.
Thus:
I aim
at concision,
I hit
on darkness.
I aim to be smooth, my lines go slack.
The eloquent idealist rants and raves,
The timid, the gutless, crawl like beetles,
Seekers after novelty hang dolphins in trees,
Float a boar in the sea:
O rare effects!
O marvelous.
Ugh.
[tr. Raffel (1983 ed.)]

Father and worthy sons, we poets often
Know what we're aiming at, and often we miss.
I try my best to be terse, and I'm obscure;
I try for mellifluous smoothness, smooth as can be,
And the line comes out as spineless as a worm;
One poet, aiming for grandeur, booms and blusters;
Another one, scared, creeps his way under the storm;
And another, desiring to vary his single theme
In wonderful ways, produces not wonders but monsters --
Dolphins up in the trees, pigs in the ocean.
If you don't know what you're doing you can go wrong
Just out of trying to do your best to do right.
[tr. Ferry (2001)]

Poets in the main (I’m speaking to a father and his excellent sons)
are baffled by the outer form of what’s right. I strive to be brief,
and become obscure; I try for smoothness, and instantly lose
muscle and spirit; to aim at grandeur invites inflation;
excessive caution or fear of the wind induces groveling.
The man who brings in marvels to vary a simple theme
is painting a dolphin among the trees, a boar in the billows.
Avoiding a fault will lead to error if art is missing.
[tr. Rudd (2005 ed.)]

Most poets (dear sir, and you sons worthy of your sire),
Are beguiled by accepted form. I try to be brief
And become obscure: aiming at smoothness I fail
In strength and spirit: claiming grandeur he’s turgid:
Too cautious, fearing the blast, he crawls on the ground:
But the man who wants to distort something unnaturally
Paints a dolphin among the trees, a boar in the waves.
Avoiding faults leads to error, if art is lacking.
[tr. Kline (2015)]